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lyrics

When a maiden I was, in the spring of my life,
I was promised to a farmer for to be his wife.
He had a bull, he had cows, he had a dozen fat swine,
And a dresser and a feather-bed, ’twould all be mine.
And he had a good house and a measure of land,
I was lucky, so they told me, for to take his hand,
He had a good house and a measure of land,
I was lucky, so they told me, for to take his hand,
Take his hand, marry that man,
Lucky, so they told me, for to take his hand.

To the man I was wed, to the man I was wed,
And he took a liking to the beating of my head,
He give me a kick, and he give me a clout,
Saying, ‘Woman, hold your tongue or have your teeth knocked out’.
He was a wicked old man, was a wicked old man,
And he thought he taught a lesson with the back of his hand.
Wicked old man, he was a wicked old man,
And he thought he taught a lesson with the back of his hand,
Back of his hand, wicked old man,
Thought he taught a lesson with the back of his hand.

Well I was ready one night, I was ready one night,
And I loaded his gun and then I give him a fright,
I made him to weep, and I made him to die,
And I did it with the blessing of the lord on high.
And I did it with hate, and I did it with love,
And I did it with the blessing of the lord above,
I did it with hate, and I did it with love,
And I did it with the blessing of the lord above,
Lord above, love love love,
Did it with the blessing of the lord above.

Now I’m free as a lark, I’m free as a lark,
I'm sitting in the dock and I’m free as a lark,
The magistrate glares, and the magistrate frowns,
And the magistrate mutters, ‘Has the body been found?’
‘Has the body been found? Has the body been found?
Are the officers a-digging up the farmyard ground?
Has the body been found? Has the body been found?
Are the officers a-digging up the farmyard ground?’
Digging in the ground, down down down,
Never going to find the body if they’re digging in the ground,
Digging in the ground, down down down,
Never going to find the body if they’re digging in the ground.

O farmer of pigs, o husband of mine,
I’m in hopes you think it fitting that I fed your swine,
Farmer of pigs, o husband of mine,
I’m in hopes you think it fitting that I fed your swine.

credits

from A Cold Cup Of Tea And A Howl Of Despair, released February 21, 2018
Lyrics and tune by Paul Carbuncle.

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Paul Carbuncle Nottingham, UK

You can take the lad out of Pluckley but he'll still sing about hops.

Profile photo by Hugh Miller.

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